Meet Me At The Altar
by Moomba
Summary: A hunt after a thief leads Seifer & Quistis to unearth a dark plot that will have dramatic consequences. UPDATED.
1. The Beginning

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Meet Me at the Altar

By: Moomba

E-Mail: Carbuncle25@hotmail.com

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A/N: Finally got everything chaptered

Part I: In the Beginning

The scene: Deling City. A pulsating hub of buzzing energy and political intrigue situated in the Galbadian continent northwest of Galbadia Garden and the nearby Tomb of the Unknown King. People often called it Bright Light City or more affectionately by raving twenty-something year olds out for a good time, Luminosity. Either name was a perfect reflection of the vibrancy of the place. Annual festivals filled the wide streets with cheering and laughing people and the city's grandeur and ornate architectural structures lured many an inquisitive mind. Not to mention the shopping was first rate for just about anything the individual wanted and the impressively elegant Galbadia Hotel was an experience in itself.

But there were many things about the city that was overlooked, be it because people were to young to know of the city's history or because people chose to be blissfully ignorant, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Like many things in life, dark secrets and dark pasts existed... in humans, in places... and Deling City was no exception. It's past was one many would rather forget but was very much like stubborn blood stains on white material - one that just wouldn't go away; veiled over and swept under the carpet where it stayed. Hidden, yet ever present. 

Today would mark the fourth anniversary of the assassination of the city's long standing President: Vinzer Deling. Not a joyous occasion to say the least. Not even for the majority who hated his dictating leadership and despised him for the tyranny he brought to the land. To die at the hands of Sorceress that was merely using him as a tool, another easily disposed of pawn in the much bigger game of chess was something of a dream come true in a sick twisted sense. It certainly removed Deling out of the equation only to give way to an even bigger menace, a threat that tore people apart; breaking bonds and creating them.

There was always a bigger picture to the snapshot you saw before you. Spotting what the underlying themes were was a mark of a great SeeD

~ ~ ~

They were running.

"Don't you dare lose him, Seifer!!" A woman with flying blond hair shouted to her partner whilst ducking through human traffic in the bustling streets of Deling City's shopping district.

"I don't plan to, Trepe!" The man called Seifer Almasy shouted back, roughly cutting through people window shopping and leisurely walking on the pavement much to their annoyance. Sod them. He vaguely heard the sounds of protest around him as he sped after their target. The target a direct priority rather than the indignity of being shoved to one side.

Narrowly missing a collision with a small child, Seifer checked behind him to see how far behind Quistis was and any sign of vehicles on the roads. Seeing none, he hand sprung over the metal fencing situated along the outside of the side walks and continued to run once his feet landed on the tarmac, his grey trench open wide open and billowing behind him.

Not too far away - a few paces behind him - Quistis Trepe continued to provide backing support. Seifer was the fastest between the two of them, leaving him to do the actual chasing but she wouldn't be too far away. The thief was a wily one and she knew from experience not to remove her eyes on this one. She had gotten the jump one too many times, far too many for her own liking.

Shouldering past a young couple to their chagrin, Quistis followed Seifer's progress with slated blue eyes under the darkening sky over Deling City. She had gone past the hotel and was now reaching the outskirts of the city, the shops rapidly leaving and barren roads approaching up ahead.

She recalled General Caraway's residence was situated along here somewhere, her recollection confirmed to be correct when she saw the guard posted at the entrance to the manor-like house. Turning back to the action before her, she looked just in time to see two running bodies curve to the right and down a side road cutting to the Presidential Palace.

Seifer gritted his teeth and put on an extra burst of speed. Where he got it from was beyond him. All he cared about was catching the little tyrant running with the agility of a fox. This was worse than SeeD training. He always kept the belief that Instructor Aki was a machine with no heart because training under him was complete and utter hell. He could drive anyone to tears with his masochistic regime and outlook on what it took to make SeeD. You could have balls of steel and it wouldn't matter. Aki was _that_ kind of person. Or maybe because it was Seifer who he was dealing with, alongside his reputation within Balamb Garden and not so successful tutelage with Quistis.

Hyne, there was me thinking morning jogs at the beach and Training Centre sessions were bad. Seifer thought, bitterly recalling those memories.

'Morning Jogs' in Instructor Aki's terms being ten laps along the Rinahl beach. It took the best part of an hour to walk along that stretch of sand, he had to _run_ it under an hour. At the crack of dawn just as the sun was appearing over the horizon, Aki would be waiting for him at the Front Gate. Him inside a registered Garden vehicle and Seifer clad in a plain white T-shirt and grey jogging bottoms and trainers. Aki of course would be driving down to the arranged spot and Seifer? He was instructed to hotfoot it down to the beach. To add further insult he was told to be quick about it.

Seifer recalled the time when he was rudely awakened by the sound of Aki's voice on the pictophone in his room. He had been drinking the previous night with Raijin and was nursing a serious hangover when the call came through. Without taking a shower and hardly taking a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Seifer had met Instructor Aki as usual at the Front Gate. But instead of taking the usual directive of "at the beach in fifteen minutes - don't be late!" Seifer took a permanent detour to Balamb Town and breakfast there instead. Returning only after his stomach was satisfied.

Needless to say his instructor was none the less pleased upon his arrival back to Garden two hours later. The shouting, the finger pointing, the death threats - not to mention Aki's livid face remained a permanent fixture in his memory. No GF could erase that memory much to Seifer's disappointment.

Yes Aki did punish Seifer for not following his orders through, and yes Aki did bitch continuously right up till the graduation ball but Seifer wasn't complaining. In some respects he was pleased Instructor Aki held the strict attitude because Seifer knew he was a better fighter, with near perfectly honed skills. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to hand it to the frigid bastard for getting his arse into gear.

That was four years ago.

This was now.

The action had shifted to quiet residential backstreets eerily lit by irregularly spaced lampposts. Not the cheeriest of places to be at night but then again Seifer had waded thigh high in sewage water. There weren't many people who could speak of an exact experience.

Five metres ahead of him, the thief was steadily increasing the gap as they continued to run past small back yards - knocking metal rubbish bins along the way. The backstreet was a dead-end, the way blocked by mesh fencing leading to the train station. If they were going to bag this capture it had to happen now. Seifer was sure the kid could tackle the fence with ease, him doing so was a different story all together.

Fumbling for Save the Queen, she leapt over the upturned rubbish bins stumbling over spilt garbage sprawled all over her path when she landed, nearly losing her footing. Now. Now. She could see the dead-end approaching with increased speed as she continued to run. Freeing her weapon from its clasp, she gripped the coiled up whip tightly in her right hand, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Now. Now. Now!

Any... minute... now...

It happened in a split second, so quick that he almost missed it. From the corner of his eye he could see Quistis running alongside him, her weapon out and not quite sure of what her intentions were. He knew well enough when she lashed out in one deft movement, the whip snaking out like a tentacle and wrapping itself around its intended victim.

With his feet immobilised by Save the Queen, the thief teetered over and fell heavily on his side and emitted a shout of pain. From his fallen state he saw the emergence of two tall figures looming directly above him speaking in quiet undertones, their boots in his direct field of vision; one heeled, the other metal capped. Vibrating with fright and filled with dread he flipped over to his front and attempted to crawl away from them whilst doing a very good job at imitating a Caterchipillar.

Quistis sighed at the thief's pathetic endeavours and felt a short twinge of pity for him. A quick snap and turn of her wrist freed Save the Queen's hold on his legs. She watched with a degree of amusement as Seifer took hold of their capture by the scruff of the jacket he wore. Their job here was finally done.

Neatly recoiling her weapon, the blond woman attached it onto her low slung belt and began to walk back towards the shopping district, leaving her partner to take care of their charge. Seifer didn't seem to catch on and called after her.

"Hey hang on a minute, what am I supposed to do with _him_?" he said to her back.

"You know where he goes, Seifer." Quistis returned, not turning to face him. "I'll be at the Loveless."

He knew this would raise her hackles then again he was a man that liked to live dangerously so he was going to say it anyway. "Has that got anything to do with the current state your love life's in?" he asked.

Seifer was right in knowing that it would stir something inside her; Quistis on her part would let it pass for tonight. She was mentally rinsed out, tired from the pursuit and frankly didn't give a damn about her love life and the fact that it was missing a man and she was going to a bar ironically called the Loveless. And what of it? The bar had the best alcohol for miles around... that and given the right time the best company.

This time she did turn around, him holding the thief who was still determinedly trying to wriggle free and her, arms loosely held by her sides. A car with beaming headlights passed and then silence.

"Two words for you, Almasy." She said, her eyes darkening and lips set together in a half pout that suited her.

Two words. There were many possibilities on what those two words could be. Seifer was fairly sure he knew which and held his breath.

"Get bent,"

He laughed. He had to. Quistis was a tough girl who worked hard and played even harder. Yet despite all that, she remained well spoken ever since he first saw her in Balamb Garden when he was ten years old. Seifer couldn't remember an instance where she swore and he knew he was kidding himself when he thought she would tell him to 'fuck off'. He wouldn't give up hope though. He was sure she was capable of breaking her perfect image. He just needed to push the right buttons to evoke that side of her.

~ ~ ~

In one part of the city:

Tuesday Night.

A relatively sombre crowd for a bar in Deling City. The lack of action or the quiet murmurs of conversation was probably owed to the fact it was only rolling towards eight o' clock in the evening. There was still plenty of time.

Not that the solitary figure of a woman sitting alone at the bar, minded. She was quite content to nurse the drink she held with her left hand whilst her right held a gradually receding cigarette. Her third since she entered the joint.

She blew out a trail of smoke, slowly... deliberately - creating a cloud of smoky haze that lingered in the still air in front of her before progressively dissipating into nothing.

... What... A day...

She had finally completed a mission with success that had taken her longer than she bargained for and here she now sat, drinking towards her success. The taste... sweetly victorious. It was nothing new. It had been how long now? Two years - maybe three? Catching criminals on wanted posters and the Network had become child's play for her - especially with the training she had in the previous six years of her life.

Child's play... That was what could be said for the majority of the cases that was forwarded to her. But then the complicated, pain in the ass cases should not be forgotten too. Like today.

The guy was an amateur thief with a hell of a lot of good luck. And good looks too for someone as young, she silently reflected amidst another cloud of smoke. Hyne must have been on his side because it sure was hell catching him and hauling his ass in. Yeah... the experience had been hell... if it wasn't for the sewers... the Chocobos, the whole thing could have been deemed as 'normal'. But for the sewers. It was the sewers that made a muscle twitch in her jaw. The rank smell of putrefying garbage and Hyne knows what else remained firmly etched in her mind. But then the gil sure made up for everything she went through. Her spoils... going towards as many Mimmet shots she could knock down.

Lifting the small glass with its clear contents to her lips - she emptied the liquid in her mouth. At first try (a dare made by a friend) she hated the stuff, preferring to stick to sweet tasting Sylkis. Like most things in life, liking Mimmet was an acquired taste. It was the strongest of the drinks and neither was it the hype to be drunk by wusses. In many respects it separated the men from the women.

She had some good friends that would frankly pass out from the strong taste of the alcohol. She liked to... consider herself equal with those who had testosterone coursing through their veins, yet she was every bit of a woman.

A slim build, a generous bust and legs that made up her five foot six height - not many women could beat that. Then again not many women chased after wanted criminals and dallied with dignitaries as their chosen occupation.

She chuckled softly at this thought and tapped at her empty glass for a refill. Her job was... an interesting one. A mixture of politics, underground conspiracies, money and battles that often than not involved bloodshed.

Refined women would argue the vulgarness of working in such an environment. She didn't think so. Her parents were of the high class, she was told. The glitzy glamour of chandeliers, satin, silk and champagne. Her father closely associated with the President, and her mother up their with the First ladies of the Galbadian state.

Where did _that_ leave her?

In a very confused state - that was what. There had been rows, heated arguments over her profession. Declarations that being a mercenary wasn't a profession at all. That was the last time she spoken to them. It wasn't on the best of terms, but who could blame her. These were the same people who abandoned her literally at birth. A father that wouldn't have her at the start of a promising career in state affairs and a mother who had developed serious misgivings shortly after giving birth. It wasn't a pretty picture - her past not something she wanted to go back to too often.

She preferred to keep those unpleasant aspects of her life locked and double bolted. Occasionally the closet would rattle, but she was a stubborn, determined woman. It was only on rare occasions did the skeletons come out to play.

Stubbing out the remains of her cigarette, she checked the time on the silver watch around her left wrist. Nearing nine o' clock.

They would be coming soon.

As if on cue, the bar's entrance opened, revealing a solitary silhouetted figure lit faintly by the street lamps outside. Exchanging words with the bouncer, the tall figure of a man approached the bar. He knew it was her even if her hair was down. The posture gave it away.

Amongst the slouched, lumbering figures of the male patrons in the establishment hers remained perfectly straight. Everything about it held elegance and poise even if she was hurdling over garden fences or barrelling through metal rubbish bins. She did everything with finesse and style. And one way or another - she got her man.

Sensing the emanating presence of another behind her, she removed her weapon that was up until that point occupying the adjacent stool to her right. Her lips curved - a smile emerging as she brought the shot a few inches from her mouth.

"So," she said, as the figure came to sit beside her, his duster sweeping the floor. It was the first time she had spoken to anyone all evening since entering the joint. Purposefully she avoided eye contact, choosing to stare down at the swirls in her drink. "How's it hanging, cowboy?"

Cowboy.

He's mildly surprised at _that_ name. There were only certain people who called him that, usually in referral to his typical cowboy attire. He supposed it was the hat that did it. It had, since starting life in Galbadia Garden been a part of him as much as his rifle was an extension of his will. Wherever he aimed, the bullet struck dead on target without fail.

Irvine Kinneas didn't mind that people made fun of him at times. Hell, he was used to it by now at the age of twenty-two. You kind of expect it when you dress the part.

He's surprised because _she_ of all people called him 'cowboy' and not someone else. For the length of time he had known her, he never knew her to call him by that name. It was always Irvine or even Mr. Kinneas when they first met since their Orphanage going days, at a mission he was to be a key part of.

He once asked her why she didn't call him 'cowboy' like the rest of them - her reply changed his regard for her, for life.

"So like how comes you don't use the cowboy names like the rest of 'em?"

"Because you have a proper name." She had said. "Because people should be treated with respect."

Respect.

That's something he hasn't heard in a long time. Most of the guys thought he was a bit of joke. It didn't help he was popular with the female cadets. But to be respected; that was truly something else. From them on she had become untouchable, elevated to a high status where no one could reach her.

Sitting there now he feels a mixture of being taken and aback and baffled as to what to say next.

He overcomes his awkwardness by signalling for his regular drink to the bartender with fingerless gloves. He smiles at a thought that comes to mind, removing his hat and fingering the brim with his thumb. He lets out a breath and turns to look at her. "Cowboy, huh?"

The female besides him, shrugging indifferently, but he notices the flash of a smile she gives him before she has her drink.

She had changed in so many ways. It was hard to believe. He always kept a steadfast belief that she of all people would stay true to her roots. One of the many lessons he learnt was that all caterpillars when in their chrysalis, undergo a metamorphosis - a phase of change. That outcome being good or bad, but she - she emerged with resplendent wings - such a beautiful butterfly she had become.

Before all this, when he knew her during the second sorceress' war, he described her to a butterfly of the sort that had yellow shimmering, gold wings. The kind that fluttered delicately from flower to flower on equally delicate long legs. 

Now... he took all those assumptions back. This butterfly was tough - strong. She had black wings tinged blue and red to reflect her fiery spirit and the hidden strength within her that had the capacity to become deadly.

Back then he wasn't sure if he liked the 'new' her. Did that mean she would distance herself, leave the group because she could fend for herself without her friends?

All it meant was she had changed according to the rest of the world. You didn't - couldn't survive in a world that was cruel and riding high on the crest of oppression. Things didn't work out like that anymore. It was a jungle out there; teaming with ravaging beasts lurking in the foliage of the high trees and the long grass below. Let your guard down for one second, show any form of weakness and you instantly become prey. You become the hunted.

"Allow it this once," she says, reaching for the cigarette inside her hip-length jacket. "How have you been, Irvine?"

He watches her light up. Another shock. Irvine knew very well she smoked... It just got some getting used to that was all. "I've been cool, as usual." he said.

Cool, calm, collected. Those three words he would normally apply to himself, but he thinks it to be more appropriate for his female companion.

His drink arrives. "And you?"

"Tired. But fine none the less." she replies. "You've been stalking me." A statement, not a question. During her short journey to the Loveless she noticed a lingering figure in the background. It hovered back enough so as not to reveal its identity. Had she felt threatened by her stalker she would have taken action.

Irvine laughs at this. "Not stalking you, girl. Just following you."

"More or less the same thing, with slightly different tendencies." she says sardonically. "What are yours, exactly?"

"Well y'know... Don't see you 'round these parts too often anymore. Thought I'd catch up with my favourite girl."

Favourite girl. That was a good one. She was sure that Irvine had many favourite girls.

"What brings you to Deling anyway?"

"Trouble maker that finally got caught." She said to him. "You still running the place down Mirk alley?"

Irvine looks over his should, his expression wary. "Yeah," he said in hushed tones.

"I might stop by there later before I catch the rain back to Balamb. Pick up a few things. Want one?"

She notices him eyeing the burning end of her cigarette and offers him the pack she withdrew from her pocket. He looks down at the rectangular box with a pained look.

"Nah it's ok." Irvine declined with a wave if his hand, going back to his drink. "I'm trying to give up."

Influenced by the whole 'it's bad for you' lecture and a near death experience, he had told her about the consequences when she took up the habit.

He was going to tell her again, knowing that his would be taken in but not necessarily carried out.

"You should too," he said to her.

"I should what?" Pretending to be ignorant was not something she did a lot of. In this instance she permitted it because she knew what was coming. Procrastination was healthy in measured doses.

Irvine is unfazed by her false ignorance. "Stop smoking them things."

The eye roll. That was never a good sign.

"Of course you don't have to." he quickly puts in.

"My circumstances are a little different, Irvine." She said, letting the smoke seep out between her lips. "It's a bit hard when you have a partner who continuously does so everyday. He's the reason why I've picked it up. Passively inhaling his smoke." She patiently explained, tapping the ash onto a solid glass ashtray.

"Have you tried to get him to stop?"

"I don't bother." She admits openly. "You know him. Goes through one ear and out the other. He listens to no one, never has least of all me. Not without incentive mind you."

Irvine nods. He gets her point. It was a nasty habit - a hard one to break as he all too well knew. He was thankful for the wakeup call Selphie gave him when he was taken to hospital for severe smoke inhalation after a carriage from Timber to Deling caught fire. An investigation on the attack on the 3:35pm express train leaving Timber concluded the attack was from a band of anti-SeeD haters that resulted in the new laws passed throughout the Galbadian continent and the close affiliation they had with the new President. The near fatal incident had taught Irvine a lesson: he wasn't a cat with nine lives. He was a human with one. Just one and only one life. Screw up on the one chance and you were dead. That was why he chose to stop the smoking. He didn't want to reduce his life span by half when he still had so much going for himself. He hoped one day she would see that too.

Thinking back to her partner, he asks how he is.

She shrugged. What could she say? "Go ask him yourself, he'll be here in a short a while."

"What about Selphie?"

"She's doing good. She and Zell are going out."

If she had told him that two years ago, he would have reacted. Selphie and Zell? The two most enthusiastic and liveliest of people possibly in the entire planet? That if they were two stars suspended in the vast realms of space and underwent nuclear fusion, the energy between them would be enough for them to go supernova? The imagery was absurdly extreme to be true but to those who knew them the possibility was there. Never mind physics and whatever laws of space there were.

He looks at his drink set before him on the counter top, pondering its amber depths as if the answer lay hidden there somewhere. "That's great to hear." He means it though his tone of voice doesn't reflect his sincerity.

Zell was a good guy with a heart of gold. His mouth had a tendency to runaway and he did act first and think later - a trait he carried with him for a very long time - so what? No one was perfect.

She looks over at him knowingly, holding back words she wanted to say. It was evident he missed the spunky sprite and her sunny smile.

9:25pm

Time to be making her exit and brawlers their entrance.

Jabbing her cigarette with well-manicured fingers coated in a clear varnish, she slid off the stool and stood to secure her weapon with the clasp on her belt.

"You're making tracks already?" Irvine said, resenting that they wouldn't be talking for longer.

"Yes. Early train to catch tomorrow morning; the only dependable thing about Deling these days. I don't get on that train; I'll be waiting at the station for a good three hours. Will Ray be at the shop?"

"Yeah, he's in a crazy mood tonight. You're not gonna wait for him?" Him being her partner.

"I'll leave you to have your guy talk. A woman listening in would seem quite intrusive, no?"

"I dunno..." Irvine leans back on his stool as if considering her question. "You might learn a thing or two about us complexed males."

A slow smile played on her flawless face. She thanked the bartender and deposited two five hundred gil notes on the counter. She patted the cowboy on the shoulder, a chuckle reaching him.

Bending down so that she as level with his ear, she brought her lips close whispering. "I know all there is to know about you men, already."

He had to laugh, this time his smile reaching his cornflower blue eyes. Swivelling on his stool, he hollered to her slowly retreating back.

"Fancy letting me on the secrets of women?" He called.

She merely shook her blond head and raised a hand that constituted as her way of waving. "Goodbye Irvine."

Damn.

She looked every bit the femme fatale and she could get rough with the toughest of men, unafraid of getting down and dirty, no freaking out on chipping a nail or ruining a manicure. That was her true beauty - what separated the real women from the wanna bes with their enhanced bodies.

Regardless of the rumours and what people said about her, Quistis Trepe... was a real lady.

~ ~ ~

Whilst on the other side of the city:

"You've been a real pain in the ass, do you know that?" Seifer Almasy said holding a young boy by the collar of his torn jacket.

"And what?" he shot back, digging his heels as they sluggishly made progress to the depot centre situated behind the rent a car station at Deling City's entrance.

They passed an elderly couple sitting on one of the many wooden benches littered around the huge city, earning Seifer and his companion stern looks. Something Seifer easily ignored.

"Do you often go stealing things that don't belong to you?"

"They should keep an eye on their stuff more carefully, innit? 'Stead of going to those flashy parties sipping their posh drinks and wearing monkey suits."

How true was that? "That doesn't give you the right to go breaking and entering their house. There are eyes all over the place." Seifer said, feeling uncomfortable to be telling lecturing him like this. It wasn't like he had been an angel in his youth.

"Thanks for the tip," was the sour reply.

"Sure thing,"

Despite himself, Seifer took a liking to the scruffy teenager having chased him through the densely populated streets of the shopping district. A smart mouth that knew no bounds - precisely what he possessed.

"Where're you taking me?"

"The holding bay."

This piece information didn't please Seifer's charge the slightest. He began to struggle. "Awe man, no! I'm gonna get chucked in the slammer for _that_?! No way, I stole a stupid box!! I'll tell you where it is." he pleaded.

"Good, 'cos I was just about to ask you where you hid the stash."

"I only took the box. I swear nothing else. I-"

"Where is it?"

"In the sewers. At the foot of the ladder in the old Archway control room."

Seifer took a mental note of the location as a flashy red convertible rolled by. They crossed the zebra crossing.

"Y-You're gonna let me go, right? I told you where the stuff is, right?"

"Let you go?" Seifer echoed. "Now why would I wanna do a silly thing like that, kid?"

The boy's face fell.

"My instructions are, I gotta deliver your skinny ass for collection at the depot. I don't do that, I don't get paid." Seifer explained. And I'll get killed, he added silently to himself.

"WHAT?!" The boy became frightened as well as outraged to find he was being hunted down. "I've got a freaking price on my head?! Are you insane!! I've seen guys rape women and beat old people. You're telling me I'm worse than that?!"

"Just doing as I'm told," For a change, his brain told him. Despite what his mind was telling him, the boy had a point. Seifer had dealt with thieves before with it being a simple case of returning the stolen goods and an over night stay at the holding bay, end of story. But this... This was different; something was nagging him to look into the case further.

"Awe man..." the boy moaned, fisting his hand through his hair and screwing his face in despair. "I can't believe this..." He then began to cry, a sorry sight to see in Seifer's case. He hated crying especially from kids, it sent twinges of guilt hailing from the past to his conscience. The boy couldn't be more than fifteen.

Loosening his grip on the jacket Seifer stopped walking. "They won't lock you up. The worse that could happen is ninety-two hours of community service."

The boy looked up at him, pupils dilated under the bright street-lamp overhead wearing an expression that clearly thought him to be insane.

"People at the holding bay go to the D-District prison. That thing in the middle of nowhere, nothing for miles but sand and more sand. The place where murderers and psycho people live. There's no such thing as community service."

Seifer frowned. He was kidding right? The boy was too young to go to that cesspit; the D-District prison was no place for a kid not even out of his teens to go. Men charged for first-degree murder were held there. On his own, the boy wouldn't survive the night.

But 10,000 gil hung in the balance. And _she_ would kill him if he let this one go. Seifer had no choice.

"There's no way I could do you this favour, kid." Seifer said, beginning to walk again. "You're worth a lot of money to me and my bike needs-"

"You're a head-hunter?!"

Seifer was sure the whole of Deling City heard this declaration it was that loud. He winced. "I don't think they heard you in the northern sector of the city." he said. "And I'm not a head-hunter. You'd be dead and in a body bag if I was."

Unimpressed at Seifer's attempt at humour, the young thief scowled. "Makes no difference. You're getting money for it." He says bitterly.

"What's your name?"

"Gonna come visit me in prison?" The boy spat.

"Yeah sure," Seifer said, deadpan. "I'm asking because I hated being called a boy when I was younger. Don't know how you feel about me calling you a 'kid' half the time."

"So what," he replied dully, giving up hope on being released. He began to drag his feet at the strain from previously running. "You can call me a Moomba for all I care."

"Do you have parents? Is that why you go stealing?"

Silence.

"I thought so," Seifer confirmed to himself.

"So what?!" He was shouting again, startling a young couple during their peaceful walk around the city's grounds. "They didn't care, the world doesn't care. Why the hell should you?!"

The hatred and anger radiating from this little urchin awakened something in Seifer. It was so alien to see it in retrospect when he, Seifer Almasy was filled with the very same emotions during his earlier years in Garden. Seifer wouldn't admit it out loud but hearing the boy speaking with such ferocity and seeing his eyes clouded by so much hate... it struck a deep chord within him, rendering him speechless.

Recovering from the impact of that outburst, Seifer spoke up with caution. "I didn't have any parents either and I turned out ok. ...Sort of." Seifer told him, seeing the flashing neon lights of the car rental not too far away.

"Yeah sure..." The boy snorted, kicking at a crumpled soda can sending the flattened piece of metal flying where it landed on top of a sewer grill at the side road. It teetered there for a few seconds before sliding down the gap and disappearing from sight. The successful yet somewhat unconventional method of rubbish disposal displeased the boy even further. Seifer felt his shoulder muscles tighten. "You're no better than the rest of us..."

Ouch. That stung. "Hey don't take it personal. I hardly even know you-"

"So stop acting all buddy buddy with me, like everything's gonna be alright! Man... this is nothing but a freakin' nightmare."

Obviously conversation with the boy was adding more fuel to the fire; the best thing being just to shut the hell up. It was pointless pursue the argument any further. The capture in total had taken him the length of a week to catch the thief, including asking around and following up on leads. He couldn't afford to let this one go.

Like you care, Almasy. His mind said as they approached the open entrance to the Galbadian depot centre. A man smoking a cigarette leant against the doorjamb, watching their arrival with dark beady eyes. I don't, he answered himself mentally. So stop caring and get the hell out of here.

Lips set in a determined line, he ushered the reluctant boy inside the cold white washed walls of the building and up the check in counter where a very bored looking attendant kept vigil behind a wall of think plexi glass covered in scratch marks and in some places... cracks.

"Got one for you," Seifer announced, nudging the boy forward.

"Name," the attendant said in a high nasal voice.

"Shove off!!" The boy growled, jamming his hands into his torn jean pockets.

"Shove off..." the man behind the glass said, typing into the computer.

The kid was understandably being petulant but for Seifer he still had places to go to before the night was through. "Don't be an idiot." Seifer hissed.

"Tch, alright." he sulked. "Loki Rabenscarr."

"Age?"

"Fourteen,"

"Address?"

"The dustbin beh- ow!" The young thief glared murderously up at the ex-sorceress' knight when his foot was trodden on. "Geez, DC Hostel Deling City."

"Next of kin?"

"Not applicable," Seifer quickly supplied.

Nasal mouth raised a well-groomed eyebrow at Seifer through the glass and received a glare in return.

"Right, I need you to sign here and here." A form was passed through the small gap beneath the glass along with a pen. Taking the black biro, Seifer hurriedly signed in the indicated places - an 'S' followed by an 'A' and then a scribbly mess that served as the remainder of his surname.

"And I'll need your e-data card to activate payment," The attendant said.

Seifer returned the signed form along with a thin transparent object the size of a credit card that revealed the network of chips attached to the board. It opened like a tiny book and was fed into the computer to download all the relevant details to be forwarded on to an automated email service for gil transfer.

Taking the form, stamping it and placing it on a paper rack of identical forms the attendant patiently watched the egg timer on the screen turn once, then twice before the card was finally ejected and a confirmation slip printed.

"Money transfer should be completed over night. You can leave the boy with the guard over there. Have a nice day."

Have a nice day, Seifer thought numbly making his way back in a half dazed state. Loki's demented shouts of unfairness and cruelty to children still rung in his ears - he wouldn't forget the boy's expression for a long while. It was the look of a scared child. He had done the right thing... hadn't he?

Blowing out a long breath, Seifer shook his head in doubt as wind from a westerly direction ruffled his hair and played with his coat.

Have a nice day? ... What with everything that had happened... He needed a goddamn drink.


	2. The Beginning: Part II

Mirk Alley:

Ray's Shack stood in the backstreets of where Deling City's reputable and well respected shops were situated, simply because the place was unreputable as it got. Simpler still, the place was damn illegal. It was considered unhealthy to be supplying unconventional weapon accessories to anyone who ad the money. So it was a good thing for Ray and his little shack no one knew about its existence save for a choice few people.

The outward appearance of the building in Mirk Alley blended well with its surroundings - boarded up windows, prowling street cats, rusty fire escapes running four floors up and litter strewn everywhere: a very homey scene.

This was the exact thought running through Quistis' mind as she picked her way through the various obstacles. She toed the bottom half of a rat, the remnants of someone's dinner no doubt, with a patent leather black boot. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Quistis knocked loudly on the iron metal door decorated with indents, some small, some roughly an inch in diameter... Target practice, she thought with a degree of concern.

A cat screeched in the background followed by the sound of shattering glass and a gunshot that pierced an upstairs boarded window. At least she knew the reason why they were in such a messed up state.

A voice rose above the yowling sounds. "What the fuck is it now? What the fuck do you fuckers want?"

Heavy pounding footsteps followed along with more cat screams. "Shut the fuck up will you. Damn fucking flea ball. Get out of here!!"

The door from the other side clanged as Quistis heard more than one bolt being back, and chains? Right after that the door swung wide open with such force it rebounded against the wall, chipping bits of plaster and concrete.

"What the fuck is the matter with the world?!"

Quistis took half a step back at the manic expression she was staring right at, a switchblade was held in one hand. "Bad timing?" she said.

The man called Ray and proprietor of the seemingly dilapidated building did a double take, hair that had been knotted together to form dreadlocks flying. Eyes widened in recognition. "Oh Quistis, it's you! Why didn't you say so!"

"I got the impression you weren't in the best of spirits what with all the shouting and bad words you've been spouting." Quistis said, smiling. "Irvine said you were in a foul mood."

"Say what?" He had no idea what she had just said. He got the general idea in anycase. "Nah, girl. I'm in a bad mood all the time, my mama was the one who taught me how to swear! You swear, I swear, my whole family swears. Everyone does." He led her up a ladder to his workshop above where he sold his goods and did all his work.

Quistis had only been to this place a few times and she was beginning to discover the more she visited the more she worried about its poor conditions. The ladder since she was last here was now missing three rings.

"Oh yeah!" he shouted to her. "You might need something to stand on. Grab that thing by the wall."

Quistis looked about her and saw an unstable looking stool standing by the entrance. 

"Um, Ray? Not meaning to be rude, don't you think you should fix that?" Quistis advised as he helped her to her feet.

"Pssh! It's fine the way it is. Me and Irvine slide most of the time." The coloured man said airily.

"I see..." she said, her voice a mixture of bemusement and wonder.

Was the guy serious?

She turned about the room to survey the array of tables cluttered with rolls of paper, tools and unfinished pieces of work. "So... If Irvine and you 'slide' as you call it most of the time, how do you get back up what with the bottom half of the ladder missing? That's assuming you don't have a stool to help you."

Ray stopped mid bustle on a table crowded with rolls of paper containing designs for proposed weapons and general scribbles and doodles. He looked over at her completely scandalised and moved to stare down the trap door with the ladder beneath minus its three rings.

"Shit, you're right!" he declared, eyes so wide that the whites showed. "And I only just stole that chair from some old dude who's got loads of the stuff."

Mortification took place over his scandalised expression, which soon gave way to realisation as he clicked his fingers in an excited manner. "Oh I remember now. We go out the back and climb the pipes and smash the window."

"I see..." Quistis repeated going slack jawed, less pleased than before. The guy was clearly insane. "Are you sure you don't want to fix the ladder? It shouldn't take a skilled man as yourself very long to rectify."

"It's all cool," he assured her, returning back to flipping paper over in search for something. "Slidin' is the bomb,"

"Right..." Quistis smiled falsely, not quite sure what to think any more. She then thought of something. "Why is it then I heard footsteps when I came knocking?"

"Oh yeah, that's 'cos I used the stairs in the back room downstairs."

Quistis frowned having to think things through before speaking. "Wouldn't it... make more sense to use those stairs to get back upstairs instead of breaking glass and hurting yourself?"

Ray played with a tiny device in his palms, thinking through her words all the while. "Oooh yeeeaah!" He said, his dark face breaking into a grin revealing very white teeth. "No wonder you're such a smart girl! You think of everything!"

"Ah yes," Quistis agreed weakly, leaning against a stack of wooden crates. Perhaps she should have waited at the bar until Seifer arrived. Her sanity was barely hanging on just by speaking to the man before her.

The man hailed from the quiet town of Dollet, making his way to the big city to make his fortune. Most would dispute running an illegal establishment was not a credible way to make a living, but the way he saw it... it beat being homeless and sleeping inside a cardboard box which flea ridden strays used as pissing spots. And it wasn't just dogs, cats and rats included.

"Who cares anyway. Upstairs, downstairs, stairs, stairs, stairs. You need stairs to go up or down. Girl, you're gonna give yourself a headache, thinking of everything."

Funny. Quistis felt an impending headache developing at the forefront of her cranium and it wasn't because of thinking. More like listening to the loony rambling.

"Come to think of it," Ray said thoughtfully. "I think I got that stool from a furniture shop."

Quistis shut her eyes tightly and asked Hyne for strength. _At least you could have stolen a better one_. She said to herself.

"Ah who cares. He won't miss it. It's already fucked up. Anyways, what can I do for you, pretty lady?"

"I came to pick up a few things before I left for home." she said, all attention. She had contacted Selphie yesterday upon arriving Deling City and was given strict orders by the petite SeeD to obtain a few things for her weapon. "Spiked balls? Do you have any of those? Selphie ruined the pair on her weapon after a battle."

"Hmmm," Ray unearthed a clipboard with a list from beneath a hammer and a pile of screwdrivers, running an index finger down the list. At length he spoke. "Nope. None of those. I've got something in the making though. It still needs tweaking but I reckon I could get that done for you soon."

"How much?"

The man waved off her question dismissively while eyes were still on his list. "Don't worry 'bout that. I'll send you an invoice or somethin' to let you know."

"All right. What about chains?"

"What type?"

"She wanted something thicker and stronger, light."

"Let's see what I got." Abandoning his clipboard on the worktop, Ray moved away to a set of wide drawers and yanked them open. "How 'bout this one?" he asked, presenting her with his offering.

Quistis took the chain from him hefting it to test the weight. "It's quite heavy," she commented.

Ray shrugged his shoulders. "That's cast iron for you. Other types I've got are too brittle to use in nunchakus. But I got a brotha' who's working on something new. He won't tell me shit so I'll give him a bell and find out what he's able to do for ya."

"I also need something for my Save the Queen. The handle has worn quite thin. The grip needs to be strengthened and I wanted to change the tip to something lighter while keeping its kick. The spike I have now is too heavy. It ruins fluidity at times."

"Mmmm hmmm," Ray nodded, scribbling furiously on the sheet of paper under his list. "Give me some time for that too, I'm sure I can sort somethin'. Is that it?"

"Yes. So... You don't actually have anything on hand?"

"Nah," he said, nestling his pen between the shell of his ear. "You're asking for specialist stuff ya know. You can have a grenade if you want."

Quistis kindly declined the offer with a shake of her head.

"Oh but hey, I got something for Seifer. Where's that son of a bitch hanging anyways?"

"He's gone to have a drink with Irvine."

"Hmph, that smooth talkin' cowboy slacking off again. Man, he's asking for a bullet up his ass." Ray muttered, pulling out keys from his battered army trousers. Searching through the bunch he selected the one and inserted it inside the padlock holding a metal cabinet casing shut.

Moving closer, Quistis watched with interest as the doors swung opened to reveal a safe. "Why the high security?" she questioned.

"You'll see soon enough." Ray replied, punching in the code with deft fingers.

Withdrawing a silver case that had two catches to seal it shut Ray presented the object by placing it on the paper covered worktop with a great deal of flourish, kicking the safe shut as he did so.

Quistis blinked blankly at the silver case then up at Ray who rolled his dark coffee coloured eyes at her in exasperation. Sighing he reached to open the case with impatience, ruining the splendour of the moment. Flicking back the catches he swivelled it round for her to see.

In it, lying on an ivory silk lining were six immaculately placed bullets, the single light bulb suspended on a wire overhead adding a glitzy shine to it.

Ray folded his arms to survey his craftsmanship. "Sexy as hell, eh?" he said proudly.

Leaning in for a closer inspection, Quistis noted the S.A. and Cross-sword engraved around the base. "What's the difference between these and the standard bullets Seifer normally uses?" Quistis asked.

"These," he indicated by picking one up between his finger and thumb. "Are Adamantine tipped. You know how Adamantoise's have hides so thick you'd need somethin' like a powerdrill or something to make even a dent? Well, reverse it and use it for coating bullets you've got somethin' different. At the speed it's ejected from a gunblade cylinder, whoo that's gonna make one hell of an impact, not to mention a fucking massive hole! I've tested these baby's on bullet-proof vests and Shell and boy... put it this way, those Galbadian army bums would pay serious shit for this stuff 'cos these are _tiiight!!_" His eyes positively shone as he lavished his work with praise. "If I say so myself.Figured my man Seifer could so with somethin' like these babys. Wreak some havoc and inflict some serious damage ya know."

"It's not good to encourage him," Quistis smiled, taking the box. "None the less I'm sure he'll greatly appreciate it."

"Damn right he better!" Ray shrugged. "He's a cool dude. I like him. Hey, is there somethin' goan on between you two?"

Quistis raised a fine eyebrow in interest at the rapid change of direction the conversation took. "What makes you say that?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged again.

The blond woman threw the man a piercing look making him flinch. "You clearly think there is a relationship between us so you might as well spell out your curiosity."

"You sure spend a lot of time together," Ray announced, padlocking the cabinet and leaning back to better assess her. "Plus he talks about you a hell of a lot. I had to tell him to shut the fuck up 'cos your name was driving me apeshit!"

"Oh?" In turn she was curious at this piece of information though not entirely convinced, if she knew Seifer. "I'm sure all he had to say were slanderous things about me."

Ray frowned causing lines to form on his forehead. His dark face taking on very pained look. "What the hell did you jus' say? Man, I only know one language!"

Quistis sighed. "I meant, Seifer probably says nothing nice all those times he has mentioned me." she translated.

"Psshh! It's always bout your eyes or your mouth and stuff like that." He shuddered involuntarily. "Man... I think there's a draft somewhere 'cos I'm gettin' the chills. Must be that window I shot."

Feeling the cold wind herself Quistis checked her watch just as Ray began a search of duct tape. The handles told her it was thirty-six minutes past ten.

"Umm, Ray?" she said, side stepping a mousetrap with a piece of nibbled cheese still attached the coloured man had thrown in his quest to locate the tape.

"Yeah?"

"I'd better be heading off now. Exhausted from today and early start tomorrow..."

"Ha! Found it!" he triumphantly brandished the roll of tape in the air. "You're going? Oh right." He eyed the case containing the bullets with a degree of unease. "There's twenty-four in there. Watch them, ok? I don't want it goan in the wrong hands. They're kinda illegal."

Quistis smiled. "You have nothing to worry about." she assured.

"Hold on, let me get you a bag." Ray said, ducking underneath the worktop and handing over a black pull string bag. "There's thieves all over the place. They'd jump you if you had a shiny bottlecap."

Recalling the young thief earlier on this night, Quistis readily opened her mouth to relate the entire story when a yawn gave way indicating how tired she was. "Pardon me," she said, covering her mouth when another yawn followed.

"Pretty beat, huh?" Ray said, cracking a grin. "C'mon, I'll take you through the back way."

"Not through the pipes-" Quistis quickly said.

"Hell no," Ray laughed loudly. "Got no more windows to smash. Nah, we'll take the back stairs."

Relieved, Quistis followed him out to a back room it's walls plastered with posters of different weapons, shelves filled with catalogues and various texts. Magazines lay strewn across the bare wooden floor and on a sofa in an odd tidy fashion while a made-up bed stood on the far corner.

After seeing the chaos below and in the previous room, Quistis took the change in surroundings with great surprise. She always did believe men were messy animals but perhaps Ray's living quarters were a sign of things to come. Passing a boarded up window, she saw with no great deal of surprise a large poster pin up of a female brunette kneeling in a provocative position, one arm covering her torso and wearing very little else other than red underwear and a coy smile. At the bottom corner of the poster in bold letters set at a jaunty angle were the words: The Girl Next Door Special Edition.

"Irvine's," she commented absently to herself shaking her head.

"Huh? You say somethin'?" Ray spoke up.

"I take it the poster of the woman belongs to Irvine."

"Yea. That guy needs a real lay or better, a woman to keep him occupied. Half the time he's dreamin' 'bout women 'stead of helping me out. I don't think his brain can hold much else."

Quistis laughed. "But he's a fine marksman," she said.

Ray nodded in agreement. "Yea. His saving grace."

Having descended down the back stairs they now stood at the front door, Quistis clutching the bag with Seifer's gift and Ray looking sheepish, a look Quistis was familiar seeing on Zell Dincht's face.

"Well, I'm off." Quistis announced unnecessarily, reaching for the door handle to find there was none.

"Oh here, let me get that." The black man came forward to pull at the two deadbolts and two chains. "The door handle fell off ages ago. If you pass by the Loveless, tell that cowboy to get his ass back here or he'll be sleeping with the rats tonight."

Bathed in moonlight, Quistis' silhouetted form pooled behind her giving an illusion of a goddess; face half masked by darkness with her hair cascading freely down her back and clothes accentuating her figure.

Thanking him once more for his help only to have it waved away, Quistis smiled her gracious smile and turned on her heel to face Mirk alley, the backstreet a mixture of light where the moon shone and blackholes.

"I'll get in contact with you soon." Ray said, watching her hair swish in rhythm to her movement. He lingered by the door until nothing but the sound of her clicking heels against concrete could be heard, the sound echoing eerily amidst the stalkers of the night.

Turning his back on the alley, Ray shut the door with bolts and all. Expelling a long, slow breath he rested against the door for a while the smell of her still lingering in the hallway. Jasmine... "Seifer my man," he said to the empty shack. "You lucky bastard." 

~ ~ ~

Back at the Loveless:

The bar when he entered was busy. He wasn't that all surprised, in fact Seifer was half expecting it to be. The other half always full of hope that he'd have choice of where he wanted to sit. Not tonight.

That didn't really matter in anycase. On his approach towards the bar itself he noticed a bar stool next to the familiar form of Irvine Kinneas to be vacant. The stools following that were occupied by men drinking greedily, their raucous laughter hurting his ears as well as his tired brain. All signs pointing towards drunkeness.

Tapping the former Galbadian student on the shoulder by way of greeting, Seifer seated himself and saw that Irvine was concentrating very hard on ignoring his noisy neighbours. "'Bout time," he muttered, downing half of his drink. None the less relief flooded his face. At least he had someone to share his pain with.

Ignoring the slight annoyance in the latter's voice, the tall blond man drummed gloved fingers on the bar counter. "Where'd Quistis go?" Seifer asked, signalling for the bartender.

"Over Ray's. Said she had some stuff to get. You done for the night?"

"Yeah," said Seifer. "I'll have what he's got." he told the bartender. "Yeah..." he repeated. "Finally caught the little brat. Man, all the running brought back memories of training."

"You're remembering stuff now?" Irvine perked at this. He found it disheartening when he realised none of his Orphanage friends remembered anything of their childhood; their times at the beach, the flower field, the food fights... To be the only one and not able to reminisce and share those memories with anyone... it hurt. He kept it in most of the time, locked away deep within not wanting to reveal those treasured times. Everything came tumbling out on their brief visit to Trabia Garden after the assault issued by the Galbadian army. The Garden was ruined but still salvageable. Now, with the restoration process in completion Trabia had their dignity back with the scars to show.

"Bits and pieces," Seifer conceded. "I don't have much time to sit and relive the past." He was in part lying when he said those words. Garden work was keeping him busy and he liked that. He wasn't a man to be idly twiddling his thumbs waiting for something to jump up at him. Boredom was a sworn enemy he found difficulty defeating, it came easily and took time to get rid of. Seifer wouldn't admit it out loud but he was grateful towards Squall for dragging him out of Fisherman's Horizon where he spent months after Ultimecia's defeat. Thankful... who would have thought it; to an archival to boot. What was the world coming to?

Besides his newfound busy life he was still growing accustomed to, Seifer had other reasons for not wanting to visit the past. Whilst people who led generally guilt-free lives gladly spoke of good times - Seifer wasn't one who could do so with ease, rather he did so with great unease and extreme reluctance.

Sighing into the mixer glass Seifer quickly downed the contents and grimaced. Bitter... exactly how he was beginning to feel.

"Hey Seifer you all right?"

"Yeah, feeling juuust peachy." came the heavy reply.

"Are you drunk?" Irvine inquired.

"Haven't even started."

"Uh, Seifer?"

"Yeah?"

"I think the guy behind you wants to sit back down."

"What do you mea-?"

"You're in my seat punk,"

__

Punk?

"I think I was here first," Seifer as a matter-of-factly, turning to confront whoever was trying to unseat him. What he received was a full punch to the face, the force of the action sending him crashing into the bottles of alcohol aligned on the wall behind the bar.

"Now gentlemen!" the bartender who was also the Loveless proprietor said panic stricken at all the good drinks gone to waste forming pools at his feet. "I don't want any trouble!" The evening was going so well... It looked very likely a new order of furniture was going to be needed.

The giant man growled deep in his throat baring sharp teeth. He brought a fist down on the bar top, scaring the bartender out of his wits. "Shut the hell up and get me a drink!" he barked, shoving one of his 'friends' seated directly next to him so as to prop his right leg there.

Nodding mutely, the balding bartender scurried out back to replace the ruined alcohol.

Taken aback at the act of violence that had just taken place, Irvine set his glass down. Then again, the guy was a hulking size, over exercised muscle straining against the clothing he wore. He didn't look the type who took confrontation too kindly. In fact Irvine was certain this guy was used getting his own way. You just didn't argue with a guy so huge.

Tilting his hat up, Irvine peered cautiously over the bar to see how his fallen was faring, emitting a yelp of surprise when a hand fisted itself around the front of his shirt jerking him forward so that he was almost touching noses with Seifer. Irvine noted the development of a bump where a bottle or a glass had landed on the corner of Seifer's forehead. Small shards of glass stuck to Seifer's hair, the ends slowly dripping with spilt alcohol.

"And _why_ didn't you tell me the seat was already taken by that titan, Irvine?" Seifer hissed into his face.

The sharpshooter held up both hands in defence. "Hey, hey. Take it easy, I'm like on your side." Seifer smelt strongly of the cocktail of alcohol that had showered down onto his hair, coat and trousers, the stench reaching Irvine's nostrils and inducing him to heave. He tried to pull away.

"I didn't see you doing much!" The blond man accused through clenched teeth, the fist mark on his left cheek taking on a bright red glow. There was going to be a bruise.

"He's bigger than I am," Irvine protested.

Releasing his hold on the cowboy's shirt, Seifer muttered a string of oaths before setting his hands on a bottle of Sylkis that had remained in tact after the collision.

"You're not going to-"

"You bet I am,"

Pushing himself to a crouching position, Seifer listened carefully and waited patiently - sensing the return of the bartender, given away by the crunch of glass.

Spotting the full bottle held in his gloved hand, the bartender's eyes widened at the realisation of Seifer's intent; the shout of the rowdy customer demanding his drink prevented him from saying any words of discouragement as he grabbed a tankard from under the bar and filled it with beer.

Sliding over the counter and back down to his seat, the cowboy straightened his rumpled shirt and observed from the corner of his deep set blue eye, Titan's budding friends surrounding him, small in comparison, their pint glasses raised and cheering the success of Seifer's swift disposal with gloating expressions.

"Heheheh. Good one on that scarface, Steiner! You showed him!" Someone praised.

From behind the counter Seifer felt himself bristle. _I'll show you scarface…_

"No one messes with you, eh?" Another said loudly.

A deep guzzling noise comparable to that of the sounds made by pigs during feeding time consequently followed as the titan swallowed the amber liquid greedily. Wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand, the man called Steiner let loose with an almighty large belch which seemed to go on forever, reaching out to all corners of the bar eliciting a mixture of disgust and admiration from other drinkers.

It was fair to say that prior to the short-lived incident involving Seifer, the other patrons of the bar now took considerable interest of the scene at the bar. "Gimme another one!" The order came out in a harsh resounding boom, the metal tankard crashing down on the wood with a loud clatter.

"Y-Yes Sir! Right away!"

Mumbling incoherent words Steiner's bulky form sagged

The perfect opportunity in view, Seifer revealed himself. "Why don't you try something a little stronger!!" He suggested.

"Huuuh?"

Without giving Steiner time to gauge the weight of his words Seifer attacked, lifting the bottle of Sylkis and bringing it down hard making contact with the oaf's skull. In the background he was vaguely aware of the bartender whimpering at the inevitable and Irvine muttering "you're doomed".

Instead of knocking the giant out like Seifer expected, the glass bottle shattered sending glass flying and old century alcohol to rain down.

Toppling over his stool from the assault, Steiner landed on the unpolished wooden with a thud Irvine felt as he was sure everyone else did. Rubbing at the spot where the bottle connected moments ago, Steiner staggered to his feet with the help from two of his comrades. With slightly unfocused eyes he pointed a thick finger to where the blond man stood completely flabbergasted.

This guy isn't human, Seifer thought in amazement. That, or he has a skull made of metal.

"Wrong move Scarface," he snarled. "Lesson number one, don't start something you're gonna lose."

Quickly scanning the bar for routes of exit Seifer began to edge his way to the end of the bar unoccupied by Steiner's goons.

"Hey! He's that ex-sorceress' knight!" a voice from the audience shouted.

"Yeah, that's him!!" Murmurs rippled throughout, deafening to Seifer's ears.

Great... Seifer muttered. More people entering the fray making the situation more volatile.

Fully regaining control of his bearings, Steiner followed Seifer's movements with black unblinking eyes. "Where are you running to, witch's knight?" He taunted. "Dirk Steiner's not finished with you yet."

So that was what the moron's name was. A befitting name for such a clueless hulk of a man. If only he knew of Seifer's true capabilities and what lay hidden beneath the cloak of his grey trench coat... Seifer was known to be merciless and unrelenting in battle. Those who fought him and escaped alive feared him, students at Balamb Garden who remembered his legacy of years past dared not tread in his path and a temper when risen to the extreme caused his fellow colleagues and friends to seek shelter. Veritably a man not to be trifled with - a lesson Dirk Steiner was soon to learn.

Reaching the end of the bar levered himself onto the counter his eyes never leaving their post.

"Here, have a drink on me!" Steiner jeered, grabbing two pint glasses and launching them at the blond man. The first went wide and missed him entirely sailing through a window with a crash. The second he wasn't so lucky on, not ducking quick enough so that it connected with the side of his head.

Howling at the pain, Seifer clutched at his head feeling blood penetrating the black, leather material.

"Shit," he cursed. _Get up, Almasy, dammit!_

Taking a large gamble Seifer roll dived from his shelter, scrambling under a table as a chair flew across the air followed by a barrage of beer bottles.

"No use hiding! Let Dirk give you a fresh new scar..." The large man said, laughing at his own jibe.

"No thanks, I don't like pain." Seifer said, blood trickled down the left of his face and gathered at his chin. His gloved hand snaked over the table's edge fingers coming into contact with something smooth and heavy by the feel of it. A glass ashtray. "Plus I don't fancy ending up looking like you."

Keeping himself in a stooped position, Seifer bolted from beneath the table to stop behind a wooden pillar.

The pillar was one of several in the Loveless, their purpose, to support the ageing foundations of the establishment entirely made of wood. You could tell just by looking around the joint this was a place that had withstood many fight scenes and scuffles as well as Time itself. One of the oldest places in Deling City in fact.

Seifer felt bad in a way. He liked this place and always did come here when he was in the vicinity. He didn't want to be held responsible for adding another notch or rather disfiguring mark to the bar's deep-rooted history. And here he was playing his part in its destruction while Irvine remained seated at the watching the action. Tossing a curse in Irvine's direction, Seifer sneaked at look to see what his friend the titan was up to.

Contrary to Seifer's belief, Irvine was making himself useful. The reason for his apparent uncooperativeness was because Steiner's friends, like him, were watching and waiting. Watching to see how things played out and waiting for the time when their assistance would be needed. Not that Dirk Steiner needed help in crushing the blond man to pulp with the use of just one hand, none the less the five of them were a posse. Posse members stuck together. While Irvine was fully aware of their presence it seemed the team of four partially intoxicated men had forgotten about him. The alcohol consumed by them was not enough to dub them 'drunk'; tipsy perhaps although such a description did not suit the foursome who appeared to have the looks of men experienced in bar brawls. That, or battles with monsters. However the beers did account for their elevated moods - and not the type Selphie was renowned for. The four amigos got unsteadily to their feet, using each other for support. Reading their thoughts Irvine stood to block their path.

"Now boys, let's not be doing something stupid." Irvine advised with a shake of head when Steiner's group made a move to follow their leader. He lifted his tan duster enough to reveal the sleek, shiny body of his Exeter. "Five against one is hardly fair now is it? Plus I got a mighty itchy trigger finger tonight, you don't want me t'go using it do you?"

"Get the fuck out of the way you freakin' pansy!" The tallest of the lot snarled.

His comrades chortled at the insult. Unfazed, Irvine held his ground. "Y'all making a big mistake." He told then.

"Did you hear that?!" The man with a beer gut hooted. He nudged the one beside him, a nose broken in two places his most distinguishing feature.

The last of the four, also the shortest chewed on the toothpick stuck between his lips, the corner of it rising to form a baleful smile. When he spoke he did so with an accent Irvine was not familiar to hearing. "You trying to scare us with your bullshit, gaucho?"

Irvine sighed and shrugged. Well... he did warn them.

A table. Dirk Steiner held one of the large circular tables with both hands leaving two men tableless. There was no doubt on what he intended to use the table for. Seifer was extremely aware of this and began to mutter continuously under his breath as he planned his next course of action.

"Shit, shit, shit...." he said repeatedly like calming mantra when all it did was increase the pace of his heartbeat and incite the formation of sweat on his brow.

Already the blood from the blow with the pint glass had congealed a trail of black starting from the gash around his temple and stopping at his chin. Seifer felt the stiffness against his skin and went to rub at the discomfort only to find that the blood on his gloves had stiffened too.

"Scarface," the name came out in a badly out of tune singsong lilt.

Seifer winced at the poor performance and at the name itself. _I really hate that name_. Lapdog, traitor, Sorceress' knight… he could handle those labels people branded him with. He was all that and a lot more besides that. Inside, the demons still raged and it would take added time for it to subside, until the day came for that to happen Seifer preferred that his disfiguring scar be left out the equation. Disfiguring in the sense that it was right _there_ - unavoidable no matter which angle you viewed his face from - in spite of it the scar did something for him. In an odd way it highlighted his rakish good looks but he still loathed it. 

"Boo!" Dirk Steiner's form loomed suddenly from the other side of the pillar, startling Seifer.

He looked up just in time to see the table come crashing down.

Momentarily distracted from where he had just batted Lanky with the butt of Exeter, Irvine looked up at the sound of crashing. An instant error when he returned his attention back to the fight he was engaged in. The last thing he saw was the cocking of fist and then… darkness.

"Who gave you that pretty little mark, Scarface?"

"Call me that one more time..." Seifer threatened in low dangerous tones.

"Ooooh, a threat?" Dirk squeaked in a grotesque imitation of a woman's voice. He flexed his large hands. "What'cha gonna do about it?"

"You wanna know?" His emerald eyes narrowed into cold thin slits. "You really wanna know?"

"Yeah," the reply was bordering cocky.

"How abouts I slice that gut of yours?" Seifer suggested, meaning every word he said. Against his leg he felt Hyperion stir, his right hand itching to whip it out and end things here and now. "Slice you right through with my gunblade and twist it when it's stuck in there, for good measure. Trail you around the streets with your blood painting the city red, then hack your limbs and feed it along with your entrails to my pet dog?"

Unwavered by his graphic depiction of his demise, Dirk cracked his knuckles. "Hah! A little pooch?!" Steiner laughed scornfully, clutching at his side when his laughter reached a hysterical pitch. "You're a joke!"

"You don't believe me?" said Seifer, his face completely serious. He indicated towards the front door. "Outside."


	3. The Beginning: Part III

Inside the Loveless:

Groaning, Irvine strove to sit up, his back muscles protesting loudly when he attempted to do so. A backwash of blood trickled from his nose and down to the back of his mouth, the metallic warm taste unpleasant to him. Spitting out blood, Irvine rolled to his side propping himself onto his elbows to find the place deserted. Where was everyone? Lanky, Fatty, the dude with the messed up nose and the one who called him a... gateau? Did Shorty call him a _gateau_?

Giving up on trying to recollect the word, Irvine groaned aloud once more when pain flooded his senses. Man was he hurting like hell. "Dammit!" Irvine moaned at the very thought of resembling the one who had the nose fractures. No fucking way...

"Are you all right?" The bartender came from the behind the bar and knelt by his side, his face etched with horror and concern. Chairs with broken backboards and missing legs lay haphazardly around the bar - one, half thrown through a window - bottles scattered everywhere like the pins in a strike.

"What should I do?" The bald man despaired. "Should I call the Galbadian army? SeeD?"

"No," Irvine rasped biting back the pain he was feeling around the region of his nose. "Here," he fumbled for his communicator and brought up Ray's number. "Tell this guy to get here, quick."

~ ~ ~

He was downstairs in the basement when his coms device went off in the back pocket of his fatigues, interrupting him in the middle of a welding operation.

Cursing behind the protective mask he wore, Ray set down the misaligned metal poles he was, up until that point working on, wearing a displeased look.

Removing one hand free of the thick gloves he fumbled for the small machine. Chirping and vibrating in his palm Ray saw Irvine's name flashing on the screen. He instantly picked up and proceeded to give his partner a piece of his mind.

"Get your stinkin' ass back here, Irvine before I- huh?"

"Hello? Hello can you hear me? Hello?"

Ray held the com away from him eyeing it with a frown. Cautiously he held it back against his ear. "You're not Irvine." He said. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Hello? Is anyone there? Hello, why can't you-"

"Are you deaf! I hear you, shut the hell up already." Ray snapped, waving the welder around as he paced the room. "Who is this?"

"Hello? Is this Ray?"

Losing patience, Ray gripped the com tighter. "Listen fool, I'm the one asking the fucking questions. Who are you?"

"This is Merl, I'm-"

"Merl?" Ray broke in. "Aww shit, sorry man for swearin' at'cha. I thought you were some nutcase messin' with Irvine's-"

It was Merl's turn to interrupt. "That's what I've come to call you about." he said. "It's Irvine and his friend. Irvine's was clobbered by some brawlers. The other one, Seifer is it? He's outside with one of them. Irvine wants you to come right away."

"Shit!" Ray closed his eyes tightly not wanting to believe what he was hearing. "Right..." he said after some time.

"They messed up my bar," Merl informed.

I'm a gonna kill those two, Ray murderously thought. I'm gonna use those bullets I customised on both their asses. "Ok. Right. Uhh, we can sort that out later. All right, just, just kick him in the ass for me. I'm on my way."

"Who?"

"Huh?"

"Kick who?"

"The brainless Stetson wearing idiot with you," Ray said and hung up.

Rushing up stairs, dreadlocks trailing behind him, Ray skidded into the living quarters and grabbed his shotgun from under the bed. Hurrying to the workshop he slung a belt preloaded with throwable armaments, praying to his mother to safeguard his sanity. Before the night was through he vowed to kill Irvine himself if the brawlers didn't come for seconds.

~~~

Handing the device back to Irvine who had returned to lying flat on his back, Merl sat on his haunches seemingly hesitant.

"What Merl? You wanna say somethin' to me?"

"Your friend, Ray."

"Yeah what about him?" Irvine rolled his head so he could view the bald bartender.

"He said I should kick you for him."

A laugh erupted from Irvine's mouth before cursing at the pain. "Ha ha- argh, shit!" He stilled his face. "He said that?"

"Yes,"

"He was joking, Merl." Irvine told the older man when it looked like he was going to carry out Ray's instructions. "When he said to kick me, you do the opposite. I'm already in p- _OW_!"

Merl stood, "You need ice," he said. "You've started to bleed again." Walking away, Merl disappeared to the bar to make an ice pack.

Then a thought struck him causing him to groan. Not from the hurting but something far worse.

"Merl," Irvine hollered. "Where's my Exeter?"

"What's that?"

"Exeter," he repeated. "You know, my weapon, my rifle?"

"I don't know about that."

"C'mon Merl! You were here all this time. You must've seen where it went or who took it."

"I don't I'm afraid," Merl said, returning to his side with ice bundled in a dish cloth.

"What the heck were you doing then?" Irvine asked, taking the ice pack and setting it gently on the bridge of his nose.

"I was hiding," Merl said defensively. "Trust me to get the rogues and troublemakers. Shirly never gets this much trouble over at the Vino."

"That's because nobody goes there." said Irvine. "I went there one time and found the place totally deserted. There's rumours going round saying she buys low quality alcohol and passes them off as the good stuff. I don't know how much truth their is to that or whether it has anything to with the Vino's poor business." All right, so I'm making it up. Irvine thought staring at the wooden ceiling. Someone sue me... I'm hurtin' and Merl's unhappy, I could do with some positiveness right now. Where's Selphie when you need her?

A vision of large emerald eyes, a wide smile and cascade of yellow colour popped inside his mind. Brushing the image hurriedly aside Irvine was quick to remember something else he was lucking other than positiveness.

"I'm like totally pissed off!" He fumed as best he could in his current state. "Where'd my Exeter go?! Man... I love that baby."

Comforted by his words though he suspected Irvine created the story to lift his downtrodden spirit, Merl patted the cowboy on his shoulder sympathetically. He wasn't a weapons man himself, disliked any kind of violence and disliked confrontation just as much. He was a passive man and very much liked the peaceful approach - quite an irony being the owner of the Loveless and supplying alcohol to paying customers, the very same alcohol responsible for the violence. Ah yes what an irony indeed. Life was full of those. His life filled with them ... the greatest tragedy being Shirly was his ex-wife.

Their divorce was not a pleasant one and they separated in less than amicable terms. The woman went as far as to claim the Loveless as part of the settlement agreement but Merl would not have any of it. The Loveless was his past and it was all he had, he'd be damn if a woman tried to pry it away from him. The final blow was the set up of the Vino - a bar to rival his own - a move made by his ex-wife just to spite him. True he had lost customers to her, yet despite that those who were loyal to him returned again and again; the Loveless was still making money and that would suffice.

Loveless... exactly how he was feeling tonight and every night for the past seven years. Hyne, single at the age of fifty-two years was oppressively lonely...

= = =

He smelled her scent before seeing her, the trail of Jasmine lingering in the path she trod acting as a guide, leading him to her.

Ray caught up with her at the Archway where she was crossing the boulevard that ran right through it.

Somewhere close by a clocked chimed signalling the time of eleven o' clock. Stopping to listen to the rings, Quistis' eyes roamed about her, her gaze coming to rest on an all too familiar evocative building. The Presidential Palace and the risen Carousel Clock... the source of the chilling melodic chimes.

It brought back a flood of memories hitting her like a great tidal wave. Flashes of the past whipped before her, blurring her vision. Exotic music, an excited flock of people, fireworks, a parade float, the sinister face of the Sorceress Edea, Seifer - a sneer gracing his features. She had seen it all. Irvine taking aim with a sniper rifle to assassinate the Sorceress, Squall leaping from the roof the Palace and driving an unoccupied car with the fierceness of a man possessed. Rinoa and her silent scream as she watched the ice pillar pierce Squall's chest.

"Quistis! Hey, wait up girl!" a voice reached out to her, tearing her away from her stupor.

She whirled around to face the direction of the voice, seeing Ray running towards her with a shotgun shouldered on his right. Stress lines on his forehead were clearly visible under the street lamp when he neared.

"What's with the heavy artillery?" She asked in bemusement.

The dark coloured man held up a hand signalling for her to wait whilst he caught back his breath. She noted however the lack of smile at her mild joke at the all the equipment in his possession.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sensing something not right. She spotted the outline of a large pear shape like object on the utility belt he wore. Quistis pointed at them. "Are those grenades?" Why do you have grenades?

"Smoke bombs," he corrected her. "There's trouble. Irvine and Seifer ran into some bad guys at the bar." He said.

Quistis groaned aloud_. I should have known this would happen, she said to herself. Seifer has never failed to get tangled up in a fight, what made me think this occasion would be different?_

You're too beguiled by him, a voice whispered at the back of her mind. Shutting that part of her brain, Quistis sighed and massaged her forehead. "Hyne... They sure know how to pick them."

"You still got them bullets I gave you?"

Quistis held the black bag up. "Why-"

"Good! 'Cos I'm gonna be needing them!"

A bus headed for the Northern sector chugged past them, emitting a burst of black, sooty fumes.

Ray took off after it. "Hey!" he yelled. "Heeeey!"

The bus driver peered at his side mirror and saw a black man chasing his vehicle with a large gun strapped to him, his tongue lolling out like a rabid dog as he continued after the bus.

Put out by the peculiar bordering scary display of behaviour, the driver pressed on the accelerator forgetting that the bus was only allowed to do twenty, it gave Ray the opportunity to catch up in no time.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" He demanded, reaching to cut the engine. "I was yelling for you to stop. Why didn't you stop?"

The bus driver gurgled something at the back of his throat frightened the shotgun would be put into use.

Ray narrowed his eyes. "It's 'cos I'm black." he said, his voice hostile. "You got a problem with black people?"

"N-N-No, no, no!"

"Ray," Quistis chided pulling him away from the terrified man.

"Fine, I'll let you off this time. Now turn this thing round and head for Eastern sector, Locke street."

"But that's a side street." The driver argued.

"I know that, genius!"

"The bus won't fit!"

"Fine. Fine. Fine!" Ray snapped losing patience. "Just hit on that gas pedal and shift this thing into gear!!"

"The bus can only go twenty! Thirty tops!!"

"Thirty my ass. Right that's it," Grabbing hold of his navy blue uniform, the weapons guru hauled the poor driver out of the main seat. "We do this my way. Quistis, jump out back."

Stepping around the bus driver who sat in a heap on the smoothed out concrete road, Quistis offered an apologetic smile.

"I apologise for all this trouble," she said, stooping down to hand his fallen cap. "And for my..." What _was_ Ray to her anyway? Friend? … Some friend. She did not know the guy all to well compared to Irvine or Seifer. Friendship involved a certain bonding; an element Quistis felt was somewhat lacking between Ray and she. _It must be man thing_. Quistis mused. "My... associate's behaviour." Evidently Ray skipped out on the social skills aspect somewhere along his lifeline.

"So he _is_ with you?!" he sputtered, jamming the cap on his brown haired head back to front but not noticing the mistake.

Again, the apologetic smile; more for herself this time. Hauling her body into the passenger compartment the bus came roaring to life the moment Quistis' foot was lifted from the ground - the vehicle leaving a mass of sooty clouds in its wake.

===

Dirk Steiner was feeling pretty scared right now. He was a man who seldom got scared. As far as he was concerned only two things in his life scared him: his mother and dogs. His mother because her wrath when at a critical state surpassed anything on this planet. It was a miracle he survived all those years back; the numerous occasions when she would shout, chase and eventually beat him for committing a bad deed be it bullying a hapless child, stealing people's money or ruining personal property. Grown man or not, if she ever found out the trouble he got into on a nightly basis a good hide hitting was a sure bet.

His phobia of canines extended as far back as his early teens - his wild years of ruling Deling's dumps and back alleys. Unknown to him, one of the residents who's small back yard he regularly trashed, acquired themselves a large dog with the purpose of putting a stop to the destruction Dirk caused. Needless to say the guard-dog did its job, deterring Dirk Steiner from his riotous ways and dogs for life.

He didn't mind those sickly looking poodles or toy dogs he saw the higher class women walk around the city with their diamond encrusted leashes. He jumped whenever they would yap but then he was much bigger than those things and a discreet hard kick usually solved the problem.

Thanks to a man in a grey trench coat - each arm emblazoned with blood red cross-swords - Dirk was facing one of his fears but in mass proportions. The thing looming before him was no mangy poodle he could easily rid of with a simple kick. _It_ was bigger than him, towering before him at a hefty twenty-three feet – the site making his blood freeze and shaking him to the very core.

Scarface was right. It _was_ a dog. It wasn't the toy type pooches Dirk envisioned. This was big, packed with gnashing fangs and razor sharp claws. Blobs of saliva dripped from its muzzle forming amoebic pools on the concrete road of Locke Street. The beast's breath felt like a mini hurricane, each exhalation Steiner worked against with a conscious effort so as not to be blown away.

Taking a step back, Steiner goggled at his adversary then with some difficulty at the beast. A problem because it had three heads.

= = =

"Ray!!" Quistis shouted over the chugging sound of the bus engine. Without warning the bus turned sharply to the left. "Slow down!"

"What did you say?" He yelled back, not hearing her because of the loud noise. This time the bus veered to the right accompanied by angry horn blares.

Excusing herself between petrified passengers, Quistis reached the place behind the driver's seat. She banged against the metal grille.

"Ray!"

"_What_?!"

"Slow down,"

"I'm on thirty for Hyne's sake. Girl, what wrong with you?"

"Your erratic driving is scaring everyone." she said.

"Say what? What the hell did you jus' say?"

Growling in frustration Quistis slumped heavily on the bench seat in complete resignation. "Hyne help me," she whispered. She started at the sound of someone's shrill cries.

"Get me outta here! I don't wanna die young. I've got-"

"Who the fuck's screaming back there?!" Ray's voice rose above the choking engine and people's shouts of horror. His foot pressed on the accelerator, pushing the vehicle near to fifty. He heard the shuffle of feet. The idiots were planning to _jump_ off?

"Get me outta h-"

"Shut the hell up and sit the fuck down!" Instructed Ray with such force the entire bus became silent instantly. "Shit," he sharply stomped on the brake pedal to avoid collision with a white open top car. Swerving to the right to over take the cruising car, Ray swore again. "Y'all giving me a migraine. I _hate_ migraines."

= = =

Steiner backed up and collided with people from the bar crowding round to see how the events would follow. "Get out of my way!!" He ordered, pushing men and women to one side.

"What's wrong?" Seifer's voice called out to him. "Not worried are we?" A hot rasping breath grazed the back of Seifer's neck and ruffled his blond hair.

__

Can I eat him?

No. Maybe. "I thought you wanted to fight?"

"Y-You think you can scare me with that monster?" Dirk pointed at Cerberus' form at a safe distance near the Loveless' entrance.

"You look pretty scared right now." Seifer remarked with the slightest hint of self-satisfaction at Steiner squirming under his muscle bound body. "And don't call Cerberus a monster. He hates being called that."

__

Call me a 'monster', puny monster? Let me see if I cannot change your mind. How about I start with a leg...

"He's a freaking monster!!" Dirk shouted, dark eyes travelling to take in the GF's entire size. "And that 'thing' has a name?! Where the hell did you get it, the Island Closest to Hell?!!"

Seifer sighed. Couldn't humans get anything right? "Looks to me the beer's messed up that brain of yours. What you've just said holds no logic at all."

"Huuh?!"

"Since when have humans been able to tame monsters even more so from Heaven or Hell. Cerberus is a GF." Seifer explained coldly. "He's getting kinda hungry."

GFs. "You're one of them, them SeeDs?"

"You betcha,"

"Shit," Dirk cursed; his eyes never leaving Cerberus. The three headed dog in turn stared down at him with malevolent eyes, a low thrumming growl release

__

Easy, Seifer mentally told the Guardian Force.

__

I want fresh meat...


End file.
